Understanding
by Eilidh17
Summary: A look at a brief moment in Fallen from a different POV.


**Understanding**

It's not his fault. How could it be? I can see the pain of comprehension dawning on his carefully schooled face the moment he moves from confusion to realization as the fruits of his past actions are laid bare. He struggles to hold onto the thread of the conversation, but his conflicting emotions override his understanding of the facts, and he is visibly lost.

This perspective I have is unique, and it's not the first time I'm grateful that I sit just far enough outside of this team to call myself neutral to their turmoils but close enough, that if the need be, I can mediate them through their difficulties.

Thankfully, this is one of those times.

The SGC is a Pandora's Box full of unique situations that don't fail to surprise me even after all these years. We can all break our life's experiences down into blocks of time: The good years, the sad years, the family years, the years of our youth… the years of loss… the years of yearning and reaching for something that is just beyond our reach. So as I sit listening to the uneasy banter between the members of my premier team, I have to wonder what block I can neatly slot my time at the SGC into. Wonder at what I've witnessed? That would be the easiest, I guess, but also the most cliché. So much has happened in this place that my perception of what counts as normal was lost the day I first locked eyes with Apophis in the gateroom.

The wonder of discovery? Probably the most obvious and yet in some ways the most underrated. If there was one thing that my steady climb through the ranks of military service taught me, it was the value of being forewarned. An old intelligence motto still stands proud in my mind: Forewarned is forearmed, and it was never truer than when applied to the strange horizons beyond the Stargate. Yet in the haze of upholding orders that had come from the president himself, I knew my place and what my command was expected to achieve. It was no easy task to walk the fine line of appeasing the military machine and pandering to the wanton needs of cultural experts under my command; the blend of serviceman and civilian never was. Still, I can't deny that as the days became weeks and then slid gracefully into years, discoveries beyond the technological advantages the gate could give us access to carried just as much weight. The scales of my mind were firmly balanced.

As I slot these wonders into neatly organized boxes in my mind, I have to ponder on the one thing that still has me baffled. I'm by no means a religious man. My parents, staunch Catholics though there were, had tried to instill in me a belief system they hoped would carry me through life. God bless them, but they got it right. I may not have turned out to Mass every Sunday but I respected their beliefs and tried to live by the fine example of living they set for me.

Having said that, I'm pretty sure Ma and Pa Hammond would be turning in their graves right now if they were privy to the events of the last few years.

Mankind, for the most part, has never come face to face with the Goa'uld – a fact I'm only too darn happy about. Beyond their petty posturing and a need to exert dominance where they have no right to, they took their liberties that one step further by claiming religious governance over our most sacred deities. Being in a position to understand how this unfortunate chain of events took place, it's easy to hold the mantle of religion under a completely unique spotlight and wonder at its true origins in the face of such evil. But, if there is one thing I have learned, it's this – There are such things as angels.

I'm no anthropologist, though I've surprised myself at the amount of detail I've managed to accrue in this tired old mind of mine, but I do have to wonder if all the recorded encounters with spiritual beings in our history was just the Ancients meddling in our affairs. I don't think it's an unreasonable assumption considering what we know of ascended beings, and in the light of their sometimes blatant disregard for their own interference rule, I challenge anyone to prove me wrong.

However, seeing as I'm sitting in the company of someone I would easily call an expert in Ascendency, I'm going to keep that opinion to myself.

Which brings me full circle and back to the matter at hand.

Daniel Jackson doesn't understand.

"_So. The lost city is…still lost?_

"_I'm pretty sure."_

"_You know, you told me to give Anubis that eye."_

This team has had a tough year. Heck, if I threw an emotional noose around the whole SGC and pulled it tight, there wouldn't be a man or woman who could claim they haven't felt the pains of loss and suffering at some point. It would be wrong of me to attribute this rollercoaster of bad luck and grief to just the loss of one man, though there are days when the rivers of denial float clearly to Dr. Jackson's door. Decisions were made that, in the harsh reality of debriefing followed by a plying of scotch to soothe away a less than stellar outcome, leave me wondering "what if". What would have happened if this team had had their moral compass with them? Then again, considering how so many of their recent missions could have ended up with the loss of more cherished lives, I then have to wonder if Daniel Jackson hadn't been with them the whole time.

Darn those guardian angels.

"_I only did it because you said we could whup ass with what we find in this lost city"_

"_Wh-if I said that, then I-I hope it's true, but…but. Look, all I know is that the place you're searching right now is not it."_

"_Then where is it ?"_

"_Did I just say 'all I know'?"_

"_Everyone turn away. I want no witnesses."_

He doesn't understand. I see this, and somewhere in the tired mind of Jack O'Neill, I'm sure he recognizes that fact as well. But when you've suffered the way this team has, it's not unreasonable for more than a little resentment to creep into your voice; into your thoughts. Jack wants answers to questions that Dr. Jackson simply can't give him and laying the cards of his former teammate's past transgressions on the table – events that took place while he was ascended – is a defense mechanism he's sprung without careful consideration.

Sitting on the outside and looking in – another cliché, absolutely, but then that's life - I take the unique point of view that this job affords me and mould it to suit the situation, and this is one of those times where it works to everyone's favor. Internally, we all know Dr. Jackson doesn't remember his time among the Ancients; it's painfully clear as he struggles to break down the mental barriers that are holding back his pre-ascended memories, but sometimes… we forget.

"Colonel!"

"What!" Jack snaps back at me, the fire of his argument still blazing in his eyes. This is neither the time nor place for retribution, even if his answer is tainted with unintentional insubordination. So, taking the high ground; I offer him a hardened stare instead of a verbal warning.

"I… sorry, sir."

"Cooler heads, eh, Jack?"

"Yeah." He gets my message loud and clear and a brief look at the rest of his team; their faces lined with surprise and concern, conveys their unspoken thanks for ending something they couldn't. "Long day, sir," Jack flips the cover on his wrist watch and hastily adds, "Make that a long morning."

"Well, people!" It's time to end this show and move on to more important matters. Just one look at our newly returned archeaologist in the cold light of a Jack O'Neill dressing down, tells me my timing is perfect. "If there is nothing more to add to this briefing, I've got a few phone calls to make." Pushing back from my chair, a sure cue that the briefing is over, I nod towards Dr. Jackson. "Son, this is the first time I've had to raise someone from the dead and the paperwork is a bit of a headache, so if you'll excuse me."

Daniel nods minimally, a far away look on his face. His attention has shifted from the Colonel and is now inexplicably drawn to his hands which he's turning over and flexing, as though something there is holding his fascination.

"Right, well." He appears lost to my presence, but I press on regardless. "I believe Dr. Fraiser is expecting you in the infirmary. The SF will-"

"I'll make sure he gets there, sir." Jack's tone is soft, his body pressed back into the folds of his chair as opposed to the stiff offensive posture he held only moments ago. Strangely, he too is focused on Daniel's hands, his expression curious but concerned. Something has suddenly passed between these two men, a moment of understanding perhaps? Whatever it is, I'm not privy to it and I get the distinct feeling that neither is the rest of his team.

The End


End file.
